


A Hunter, an Angel, A Werewolf and a FED Walked Into a Bar...

by all-or-nothing-baby (BundleOfSoy)



Category: Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (briefly) - Freeform, Angry Dean Winchester, Annoyed Castiel (Supernatural), Bisexual Dean Winchester, Bisexual Disaster Dean Winchester, Boys In Love, Car Sex, Castiel Knows Dean is Bi, Castiel Loves Dean Winchester, Castiel Takes Initiative (Supernatural), Castiel Talks About Feelings (Supernatural), Castiel and Dean Winchester Being Idiots, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Time Having Sex, Castiel/Dean Winchester Mutual Pining, Closeted Character, Closeted Dean Winchester, Crossover, Dean Winchester Cries During Sex, Dean Winchester Has Self-Esteem Issues, Dean Winchester Loves Castiel, Derek Hale Loves Stiles Stilinski, Dom Castiel/Sub Dean Winchester, Dom Stiles Stilinski, Established Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Experienced Stiles Stilinski, FED!Stiles, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Kiss, Frustrated Castiel (Supernatural), Gentle Dom Castiel (Supernatural), Hand Jobs, Idiots in Love, It's For a Case, Light Dom/sub, M/M, POV Dean, POV Dean Winchester, Pining Dean Winchester, Public Hand Jobs, Sad Dean Winchester, Semi-Public Sex, Sex in/on the Impala (Supernatural), Soft Dean Winchester, Stiles Likes Dressing up for Derek, Stiles Stilinski Loves Derek Hale, Sub Dean, Sub Dean Winchester, Sub Derek Hale, Undercover Cop Stiles Stilinski, Werewolf Derek, Werewolf Derek Hale, Wise!Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-09 11:43:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20852870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BundleOfSoy/pseuds/all-or-nothing-baby
Summary: If Dean didn’t look away now, he’d be popping a boner like a fourteen-year-old finding his first skin mag under Dad’s bed.He resumed his saunter back to the table just as the Hot Dudes peeled themselves apart."Cas..." Dean grunted, setting the drinks down and immediately sinking both his whiskeys as Cas joined them. “Who're these fellas?"ORThe one where Destiel meet Sterek...





	A Hunter, an Angel, A Werewolf and a FED Walked Into a Bar...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [novemberhush](https://archiveofourown.org/users/novemberhush/gifts), [sharkfish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkfish/gifts).

> Written for @cocklesdestielfiction's Tumblr challenge "Crazy Crossover".
> 
> This is predominantly a Destiel story with a bit of Sterek thrown into the mix. AND IT'S MY TWO FAVOURITE SHIPS, GUYS!!!!!!! Ahem. #sorrynotsorry though as you should totally come scream about these assholes with me *claps hands like a toddler*
> 
> I've dedicated this to novemberhush 'cause she's a fellow Sterek fan I'm sloooowly trying to convert to the religion that is Destiel. Hope you like this, hon.
> 
> And to sharkfish because, well, you know why.

No indication. None. Nada, zip. Even the name "_Danny's" _ had given nothing away. Just looked like an infinitely more up-market place than the ear-pounding biker joint across the street.

* * *

Dean slung a casual arm around trench coat-clad shoulders as they entered and headed down an L-shaped staircase.

"Sammy'll be aces, Cas. Believe me, he'll love nerdin' out with the traffic cams of Beacon… _Hill? Hills?—_wherever the hell we are—back at the delightful _Finstock Family Motel. _Maybe they'll be... I dunno, outta ice? And he'll have to deal with that psycho proprietor,_" _Dean practically sang. "So, you and me, Sunshine? _We_ may as well have ourselves some good ol'fashioned fun, seein' as we have to be here, huh? A little play while you work never hurt nobody. Especially not those with a cast iron liver am I Right?" Dean made the question a promise with raised brows and a smirk, playfully patting a dubious looking Cas on the chest.

Dean ignored Cas when he answered, "My liver is actually a little lower down, Dean."

Stepping through the double swing-doors, Dean's involuntary glee crept up his face like a cat burglar happening upon the nicest house in the neighborhood. He eyed the unexpected swarm of hot men before him with delight, the room practically buzzing with the promise of him getting nicely fucked by one of them... before reality hit like a hornet's sting to his eyeball_—_the usual _ this-here-cowboy's-straight-as-a-gun-barrel-darlin' _ mask returning—and the thieving, truthful smile scarpering, fast as Dean's Baby giving chase.

_ Oh shit_.

They were in a damn gay bar.

Dean was internally torn between needing to get there hell outta there STAT (he was with _ Cas_, after all) and drinking it all in thirstily like a fine, thirty-year-aged scotch; he'd not been to a tasting evening at an all-male distillery in quite a while.

His eyes then flew to Cas. But that gorgeously stern true-blue gaze was luckily _ not _ fixed on Dean, who was freaking the fuck out just a little, eyes as big as Dallas at arriving in the Hot Guy Central of Beacon Where-the-fuck-Ever. Cas was looking around with a completely different purpose, obviously already trying to single out the suspected werewolf they were trying to wheedle out; Cas being ever the most dutiful member of _ Team Free Will_.

Sam had advised them to check out the club after talking to Garth, who'd asked around and discovered_ "Danny's" _ was apparently a favourite lycanthropic hang-out in this part of California.

_ Just not for straight weres, clearly. _

Mr. formally-known-as Comatose, however, didn't seem fazed in the slightest by the fact he and Dean had just stepped into a very gay Gay Bar. But, then again, why would he? _ Cas isn't even a dude, _ Dean reminded himself. _ Not really. _ Cas is a goddamn genderless, powerful and terrifying angel… who Dean is head-over-heels like a crazy jackass in lo—_nope _ . No, Dean didn't like to talk about _ that _ with anyone—not even himself.

Something right behind Cas then caught Dean's eye. Or, more accurately, some_ one _ And… _ woah_. The dude was younger than Dean but maybe as tall, with slick, dark hair like Cas _ (maybe even darker?) _ with much heavier stubble. He had an arrow-shaped nose, pale eyes and cheekbones you could chop a vamps head clean off with. Wearing a tight, visibly soft leather jacket, anyone could tell this guy was _ built_. As he carried drinks over to the tall table behind Dean and Cas’, Dean also easily deduced he was… _ silly-hot. _ Not _ Cas _ hot, but seriously up there on the Hot Dudes chart, right in the centre of the "Chiseled and Dangerous Looking" section.

He reached the table where another even younger guy stood with his back to Dean and Cas. This dude was almost as tall as Hot Dude but much slimmer—wiry almost—with long fingers and wild, chestnut hair. He turned around as Hot Dude set down a beer and a bottle of water and… _ woah_. He was also _ silly-hot_, but in a completely different way. The guy wore an oversized sports tank and was almost boyish looking, although Dean could tell he was definitely old enough to be in here. And with a cute snub nose, moles that dotted milky skin and a smirk that rivalled Dean's own, he was pretty. Like, _ real _ pretty.

"Dean, do you think that it's worth maybe asking some of these men whether they can—Dean?" Cas' question turned to concern. "Dean, are you… alright? You look, um, somewhat flushed. And your heartbeat is—"

"It's what? I mean, no, Cas. It isn't. I mean, I'm fine... I just—I'm fine. I'll, uh," Dean cleared his throat, "I'll go get us some drinks."

Dean left Cas looking more confused than usual.

Beelining for the bar, he questioned his choice to stick around this place. It was a little… reckless. Just like ordering him and Cas two beers each with whiskey chasers was reckless, seeing as Dean was already really, _really _in the mood for some cock. And he was in a gay bar._ With_ _Cas_.

Dean downed both shots and ordered another two.

While waiting, he turned to eye Cas carefully and bristled like a kitty in a hedgerow at seeing him talking to the Hot Dudes from the table next door to theirs. Dean wondered what the hell they wanted with Cas... before remembering how _ ridiculously hot _ Cas was and therefore how very dumb that thought probably was.

The pair were obviously _ together-_together _ . _Dean could tell by the lingering looks and soft touches—like the ones he gives to Cas, only they came much easier.

And were obviously mutually reciprocated.

Dean was aware Cas cared about him. After all, the once Angel of the Lord had given up his family and all of heaven to literally save the world with him and Sam—a war between two Archangels that would have been the last domino to fall in a game of Apocalypse, which Dean had inadvertently started—and with all the other many, many trials and tribulations they'd been through together over the years? Yeah, he knew Cas cared about him. But other than the _ "profound bond" _ that had begun with Cas rebuilding Dean's soul after raising him from Hell… Dean was still unsure of what else— _ if anything _—Cas felt for him.

Dean definitely felt… _ things _for Cas. But they were different things to those he'd felt for Cassie and Lisa.

Cas was his best friend. Cas was like a brother, he was Dean’s family. Cas was also the most beautiful person Dean had ever laid eyes on—his pitchy hair that curled slightly around his ears; the silly-smooth, apricot skin. And his face? _ Actual perfection. _ A sloping, greek statue nose; and those lips? Those lips… hell, Dean had never seen lips so damn kissable, not in all his shitty life. But it wasn't just the stunning good-looks of Jimmy's meatsuit; it was the angel inside. It was… _ Cas. _ Cas' squint, when confused or being pissy or judgey; Cas' stupidly adorable head-tilt when processing _ "infuriatingly perplexing" _ thoughts, because humans are apparently sometimes so very fucking unfathomable; Cas' rare smiles—the tiny, barely there smirks when pleased with himself; and the huge, gummy grins that only Dean can seem to summon—every different type which Dean laps up like a cat who got the whole damn carton of cream; the way Cas' lethally sharp jaw sets when determined; And Cas' unearthly eyes—they were _ definitely _ all him—and that gaze of pure and ardent intention, the bluest-of-all-blues that screamed his diligence and devotion to… Dean. _ And _ Sam. Cas needed Sam to be safe almost as much as Dean himself, if not just as much—which was _ everything _ to Dean.

Dean felt an unstoppable pull towards Cas, so strong it was like fucking gravity. He had never felt such a part of something when he'd been with Cassie or Lisa… but with Cas? Dean felt like he _ belonged _.

Maybe… maybe Cas _ did _ feel some of what he felt. And what if—_nope. _Dean couldn't let himself go there. Too dangerous. Falling in love was _ not _ for him. That shit gets everybody dead. _ Like Mom and Dad. _

Too bad Dean was already totally in (up to the very tips of his wax-coated hair) love. But allowing himself to think it could go anywhere, with Cas? That was the no-go zone.

_ Cas couldn't love garbage anyways. _

Dean downed the replacement shots he'd just bought and ordered two more. When they'd been poured and paid for, he grabbed the tray and made his way back to the table. The four thrown-back-in-half-the-time whiskeys had kick-started Dean's buzz and he was now walking over to the three actual hottest guys in this place—Dean should know, he'd checked. But he stopped dead when he saw no Cas, only the two freakishly Hot Dudes making out like there was nobody else in the room.

_ Shit. _

Dean really wanted to look away, but just couldn't.

The taller Hot Dude was now backed up against a pillar just to Dean’s right of the table, with shorter Hot Dude wrapping himself around the guy like a long, sleek snake on a thick jungle branch. He had one arm scooped low, hand in the back pocket of his boyfriend’s tight, black jeans, probably groping a handful like there was no tomorrow (_ hell _ , _ Dean would _ ) and the other curled so completely—so possessively—'round that gorgeously dark-skinned neck, his hand was able to easily make a claim on heavily stubbled jaw. And he was moving against his man in a way Dean had only experienced with _ tops_, the ones who liked to take control in the bedroom. Skinny guy was… _ dominating _Tall guy. Dean could see dark brows furrow involuntarily—Dean knew that hardcore subversive look, had sported it himself—as Skinny dude’s tongue flicked like forked lightning through those full, glistening lips.

_ Fuck_.

If Dean didn’t look away now, he’d be popping a boner like a fourteen-year-old finding his first skin mag under Dad’s—or Mom's—bed.

That’s when he saw familiar beige to the right in his peripheral.

Cas stood, peering curiously at Dean. And as Dean blinked through plausible excuses in his mind, Cas looked towards the kissing guys, then back to Dean again—brow furrowed in a different way to Tall Hot Dude's, but in a way that somehow turned Dean on even more.

_ Get it together, Winchester. _

Dean took a breath, thought of the ghoul-guts he got covered in last week _ and how he’d gotten some in his mouth_, trying hard to gross himself out enough to calm the fuck down.

He resumed his saunter back to the table just as the Hot Dudes peeled themselves apart.

"Cas..." Dean grunted across the table, setting the drinks down and immediately sinking both his whiskeys, before reaching for his first bottle of beer and taking a long swig as Cas joined them. Dean wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Saw you talkin',” he motioned with a chin-jut towards the breathless pair, “Who're these fellas?"

Cas' answer baffled him.

"Shit, honey, it really has been a long, long ass-week, hasn’t it?" and he moved fast, hand reaching out and behind Dean, hooking around and cupping the back of his neck, sending a shockwave of sparks down Dean's spine—but it was _ nothing _ compared to the electrical fire that ignited between them as Cas pulled Dean into his space and kissed him fully on the mouth.

Dean didn't know what the fuck had hit him. What the hell was going on? The fuck was Cas doing?! Yeah, they were in a gay bar but… Dean's brain completely short-circuited and he briefly wondered if he'd ever come back from this.

...so, his body—on pure instinct, it seemed—took over.

Kissing? Dean knew kissing. _ This_, Dean knew.

Dean closed his eyes and opened wide to let the angel in and could _ feel _ Cas' eagerness deep in his balls. As Cas' tongue slid in between Dean's open lips, Dean felt that wet, warmth tangle with his own and he genuinely _ moaned_—and couldn’t have helped it if he’d tried. But he really was in no position _ to _ try. Dean had wanted this for so long.

_ So very fucking long. _

As he made the kiss deeper, their mouths locking like pieces of a puzzle box, Dean's hands slid up the front of Cas’ crisp, white shirt, one claiming that stupid blue tie like his life depended on it, the other moving further up to hold on to that strong, soft-stubbled jaw, fingers scraping up into silky, raven hair aside the quickened pulse in Cas' temple. Cas' other hand gripped Dean at the hip and pulled them flush against each other and Dean let out another involuntary moan around Cas' lips.

Dean and Cas then took and gave each other _ everything _ and the whole world fell away like they’d never even needed it.

Cas gripped the back of Dean's neck and growled into Dean’s mouth and that was where it had to stop. Otherwise, Dean would have ripped off his own clothes there and fucking then and got down on his knees in front of Cas, shame be damned. Dean reluctantly pushed off him gently—and instantly knew the action was the worst decision he'd made in all his years on God's green earth. He wanted _ more_. He wanted _ Cas_. He wanted _ more of Cas. _

But maybe _this? _ This thing he needed most, maybe from now on, he was allowed it… maybe Dean was allowed _ more _ after all?

He stared at Cas now with all of his love pouring out through his eyes. Cas' breathtaking smile was brand new—so blindingly bright—one Dean had never seen before, and he thought he'd memorized them all. Cas _ wanted _ Dean too. Cas _ needed _ Dean too. Cas—

...and then, as Cas' words replayed in Dean's mind, the penny dropped to the bottom of a broken wishing well.

_ Cas was obviously pretending._ _For the case. _

The pain of realisation ran through Dean's veins, a paralysing poison taking hold of his body. He felt it crushing him from the inside; from the hole in his heart where hope had grown—now being dug out like crumbling dirt from an old grave, hollowed by this cheap trick—to the sickening numbness that spread through him like cancer, down to even the very tips of his fingers.

But Dean was used to pain and numbness, could use them as a weapon. He wouldn't let the biggest dejection of—_ever? _—be seen by others. He was a professional, dammit. So he sucked it up, swallowed it down, then smothered it with an emotion-killing pillow made with lead weights instead of feathers.

"It's okay, Dean. They're _ friends _." Cas said, using that blatant warning tone in his voice, the one that made Dean's dick quiver against his will, regardless of the current crushing situation.

"Ohhhh. _ Friends. _ What, we havin’ ourselves a foursome tonight, sugar? Aw, and there was me thinkin' you were shy!" Dean was gonna hack out his venom like a baby viper spitting out its soother.

Skinny dude jumped in immediately. "Woah... think he's bein' serious, Der? Or is that jealousy and sarcasm he's oozing? Can you tell? Can you smell it on him, babe?"

"Takes one to know one, Stiles..." Buff dude answered with a side glance at this _ Stiles_. Then he looked directly at Dean with a paler version of Dean's own green eyes.

"I'm Derek this is—"

"Stiles Stilinski. And you? You _ must _ be Dean." Stiles said with a flash of wide-eyes and that irritatingly cute smirk. "Your handsome angel here tells us you're lookin' for the rogue werewolf that's been takin' out—"

"The fuck, Cas?" Dean aimed his buckshot question at his _ handsome angel_.

"I _ said _ it's okay, Dean." More of that deliciously deep and domineering voice. "They know everything and it's fine. I told you, they're friends. Well... they are _ now _." Cas tried to diffuse a live-wire Dean. "Derek is a werewolf, one like Garth. And Stiles is a federal agent—a... sympathetic one."

"If that's what you wanna call it." Stiles winked at Derek, who rolled his eyes in an uncannily similar fashion to Cas.

Dean was pretty taken aback.

"Waitwaitwaitwait. Okay, so, lemee get this straight. You're a Goodie Were," he pointed at Derek, "and _ you _ are a goddamn FED who's _ dating _ Mr Goodie Were," turning to Stiles, "...aaaand you're both, what? Playing Cowboys and Indians on this Baddie Were case?" Dean finished, incredulous.

Derek's lips twitched a little, without humour. "We're not playing."

"Yeah, Cowboys and Indians'll have to wait till we get home, huh Der-Bear…?" Stiles bit his gorgeous bottom lip at Derek who sighed a huge, seemingly long-suffering sigh. Stiles then turned back to Dean with an even bigger smirk and a slightly crazy twinkle in his caramel eyes. "And there ain't nothin' straight to _ get _ here, buddy."

And Dean couldn't help it, he cracked a smile and almost laughed at that. This Stiles dude was a man after his own heart. And just as long as his werewolf boyfriend wasn't after the same thing, then that was just dandy with him.

Stiles then did what Dean imagined he did best, and completely took over.

"So, we've already set a plan in motion to bring down this evil dickwad. We know he's workin' alone but trying to recruit other lone wolves, known as omegas. We've dealt with shit like this before, got plenty of intel and lore, know-how and man—and wolf—power. So, it's on. You guys want in, or what?" Stiles asked, hands darting about like they had a life of their own, a sharp gaze aimed at both Dean and Cas along with hopeful, raised brows.

The kid's hyper-enthusiasm was pretty damn infectious.

The werewolf then spoke up.

"The plan _ does _ need a little tweaking, seeing as Stiles, you are human, have no powers and could _ easily _ get hurt; standard-issue Glock or not," Derek added, sounding annoyed and looking at Stiles.

Cas then chimed in, "I believe the expression _ I feel your pain _is one I could employ here, Derek."

"_ Oh my God, really _ ?"(Stiles and Dean ask simultaneously)" _ Oh my God, really _?"

Dean and Stiles turned to each other.

"Right?!"(Stiles and Dean ask simultaneously)"Right?!"

Cas and Derek both threw full-body eye-rolls in unison as if they'd been fucking planning it.

They all looked at each other.

Stiles burst out laughing... and the rest of them couldn't help but join in, even Cas. But as Stiles called Derek an _Overprotective Sourwolf _with audible affection_, _Dean's smiling eyes caught Cas' after a moment, and his amusement quickly faded. He could feel the lie pumping through his veins again.

He couldn't stand the disappointment and looked away.

Cas then spoke up again. "Dean, I went outside just now to call Garth and have his pack verify the authenticity of Derek's—which checks out. Derek and Stiles have already agreed to help us with the case… if you are in agreement, of course."

Cas now sounded all Dutiful Angel again. And seemed oblivious to Dean's distress. Dean swallowed more hurt and pain and smiled a smile with only the bottom half of his face. He'd really been looking forward to some alone time with Cas. But Cas didn't know that, and probably wouldn't even have understood—_or have cared _—if he did.

"Sure thing. The more the merrier, huh Cas?" Dean tried to glare but was pretty sure he just ended up looking pathetic and needy.

As Cas asked Derek some important-maybe-who-cares questions, Dean turned to Stiles.

"Alright! Dean, isn't it? Give me your number, dude, and I'll text you the plan. My best friend, Scott and the rest of the pack are in on this too. Text me back with any deets you got, then we'll rendezvous at zero nine hundred." Stiles then smiled like a kid who just got given all the candy. "I swear, I only went through Quantico so I could say shit like that!"

Again, Dean couldn't help but warm to the sheer exuberance of the guy. He was funny and cute and he could definitely see what Mr Buff Handsome Sourwolf saw in him.

"Make it ten AM... and you're on." Dean said, shaking Stiles' hand.

"Yours a grumpy one too, huh?" Stiles cocked his head over at Cas then looked back to Dean.

Dean swallowed hard.

"It, uh… it ain't really like that. Not like… you two."

Stiles looked slightly perplexed and the closest to serious he'd looked since Dean had clapped eyes on him. "I think your wrong, man. I think you're maybe—and please don't punch me in the face; my looks and my sarcasm are my only defence, at least when I'm unarmed—but yeah, like, maybe you're just scared, man. But I totally, totally feel you. It took a _ really _ long time for Derek and me to get together," he admitted. "but look, even after watching that kiss your guy, Cas, planted on you—which was really fucking hot by the way—I think maybe he's just scared too. Scared of losing you before he even has you, or somethin'. But..." Stiles ruffled those long fingers through unruly, chestnut hair, "it's obvious what's there, man, you know? Between you two... you should just—just ask him about it. Okay?"

And even though the idea was ridiculously simple and simply impossible, for some reason this cute dork whom Dean had only just met—this unlikely FED; a savior _ and _ hunter of sorts, who was in love with a supernatural being; a human who put everything on the line for a werewolf; an eternal joker who looked at him now with such seriousness in his eyes—this dude? He somehow had Dean's usually hard-earned trust. Stiles seemed like real salt of the earth, seemed to know what the hell he was talking about. And seemed to understand Dean's situation better than Dean.

Dean gave Stiles a quiet and unsure "Yeah, I, uh, I might."

Cas, now readying to leave, put a hand on Dean's shoulder and Dean felt the slight vibrations of grace fizzing like live-wires where Castiel had once left his mark on Dean's soul in Hell, from when he'd claimed Dean as his own.

And that's all Dean wanted, really: _ to be Cas'. _

He worked hard now to fend off his emotions, downing the rest of his beer and most of the other, before feeling okay enough to make eye contact again.

Then a hunter and an angel shook hands with a werewolf and a FED and readied themselves to leave a queer bar for supernatural creatures and sympathetic (or interested) humans alike. Cas and Derek nodded their serious alliance, Dean and Stiles gave each other wink-clicks, finger-guns and six-year-old smiles on adult faces.

Climbing the first few steps towards the exit, Dean looked back once to see that, now they were alone, Derek's hard-nut exterior had cracked like candy—revealing a soft, praline centre as Stiles whispered something into his ear. They looked… happy.

_ And it hurt like hell. _

Once they were outside and making their way over towards the Impala, Dean wanted to punch an answer out of Cas. _ Why had he even bothered with the kiss, if Derek and Stiles were already clued in? _

...but ever the coward, Dean found he couldn't even ask the damn question. It was left to choke him, constantly rising up and being swallowed back down, like acrid bile in his throat.

Cas choose then to throw his second curveball of the evening.

"They were both very good-looking men."

Dean nearly threw that punch.

"What the actual fuck, Cas?!" he asked, too loudly.

And Cas had the gall to look affronted.

"You obviously thought so, Dean. I know you feel attracted to men in the same way that you're attracted to women."

...was absolutely not the answer Dean had been expecting. Cas had never once said anything like that to Dean. And now Dean was so shocked by Cas' answer, he didn't even remember to deny it.

"I, uh, I thought you meant _ you _ thought so, Cas." And Dean swallowed hard again. He felt slightly dizzy but hadn't consumed anywhere near enough booze for that to be the reason.

"What? No, Dean. I mean... I suppose they were... but I hadn't actually thought about it whilst in there." Cas said.

Dean's anger sprang back like a pouncing cougar.

"Oh, so you _ weren't _ trying to bag us a gangbang when you planted your goddamn lips on me?" Pure, acidic sarcasm dripped from his lips. "What the fuck was that even for then, Cas? If they already knew why we were there and you weren't just playing a part..." Dean threw scarred hands up to a deathly black sky. "you just, what, wanted to fit in? Feel like an authentic hunter, instead of a _ pretend _ one? Or you feel sorry for me 'cause I ain't got laid in a hot minute?" Dean coughed up sharp words straight from his broken heart.

_ Only reason I ain't got laid 's 'cause I don't wanna lay with nobody else but you, Cas. _

Cas was becoming exasperated.

"Again, that's a no, Dean."

_ "THEN WHAT?!" _ Dean bellowed.

Cas' clenched teeth worked his jaw.

"Because, Dean, you so badly wanted what they had!" Cas almost shouted, "and I wanted to give that to you. And I… wanted it too, Dean. I've…" Then Cas looked like his heart was breaking too. "I've always wanted it."

Dean couldn't breathe. He felt even dizzier like he might actually fall over.

Cas continued, "And it was safe, in that bar. Safe, for you. And I didn't want to hold back anymore. Because I didn't know—have never really known, not really—why it is that we do. Other than the fact that you think people won't accept you."

Dean put hands out into parking lot space and felt for the nearest car... but his reach couldn't find a single one. He _ had _ to hold onto something or he was gonna topple over, head over ass.

So he held onto Cas.

Dean's hands connected with shirt and trench coat as he stumbled into Cas and just kept walking—forcing Cas backwards, which the powerful angel was obviously _ allowing_. Dean kept marching forwards, staring fiercely at Cas with questioning eyes, until Cas' back hit a wall. His hands still scrunched in the damn trench coat, Dean licked at worried lips and then spoke.

"I hold back 'cause… 'cause I thought I should. Thought it was best. Don't wanna lose you, Cas" Dean's rabbit-in-headlights eyes which had fallen, pitched up again. "You scared?"

Cas' unblinking answer was, "Yes, Dean. Are you?"

"Fuckin' terrified."

Cas' chin lifted, just a touch.

"Then hold my hand, Dean. And, as with everything else, we'll be in this together." Cas said as he pried Dean's left hand from his coat and held it tightly in his own.

Dean's pain and hurt had calmed to a simmer and the emptiness inside of him seemed to be shrinking. His heart was still a marching drum though and his entire body was practically vibrating—but just like pain, a lifetime of fighting meant Dean knew how to use adrenaline to his advantage.

So he used it to surge forwards, into Cas' personal space like Dean was a starving man and Cas was a goddamn feast. His lips pressed into Cas' again and now worked to push and pull Cas apart... and Cas let Dean in, to lick and to tease and to taste all he wanted, Dean's unoccupied hand finding Cas' belt and pulling his shirt out just enough for freckled fingers to find tanned, taut skin.

Then Dean was dizzy again as Cas held both his wrists and gripped tight, now flipping them—switching their places—so it was _ Dean's _ back that was shoved up against cold, brick wall. But Cas' heat was there again, like a roaring fire and as he leant in, Dean felt his warmth, his skin now glowing like embers. Cas stopped just short of Dean's lips though... but so close, the tips of their noses almost touched.

"Tell me: how much do you want this, Dean?" Cas breathed.

It was _ almost _ not a question, _ almost _ an instruction—and Dean nearly shot his load there and then.

Dean's eyes dropped again. Words were hard. "More than I feel like I should. This is… it's more than I deserve, Cas."

"No," Cas said simply. "You don't get to decide that. Only _ I _ get to make that call. Do you understand, Dean?"

Dean's mouth opened and closed like a damn guppy.

"Well?" Cas demanded.

Dean bit down into his lip. "Yeah. Yes, okay Cas. I get it."

Cas smiled one of his barely there, smug smirks.

He then leaned in so close Dean's eyelashes were brushing up against his cheek like tiny butterfly wings. He whispered into Dean's ear "That's very good, Dean."

Dean had died and gone to heaven. _ Again_.

"Oh fuck, c'mon man. Please just kiss me again will you, Cas? _ Please _?"

And Cas did.

He gave Dean what Dean needed, this time with slow, measured movements of lips and tongue, with Dean's still gripped-tight wrists now pinned up above both their heads, and Dean's dick—hard as steel'—pressing into Cas' thigh.

Then Cas pulled them away from the wall and they stumbled, still kissing, looking for the Impala. They bundled in when they found her, like drunken teens, fumbling and losing their footing and it was messy and clumsy and completely fucking perfect.

After Dean was splayed on the backset, Cas pulled the door shut behind them and then he was _ on _ Dean, like a dog in heat. Cas climbed atop of Dean and immediately grabbed his face in both, slender hands, licking into his mouth, hot and feral. Dean could feel Cas' want bursting through the seams of his pants and Dean's own dick felt so fucking hard and uncomfortable he had to do something about it. He was about to when Cas practically read his mind.

"Take yourself out of your jeans," he demanded, fumbling with his own zip, "now, Dean"

A glorious shiver ran through Dean again, this time at the knowledge that Cas somehow knew _ exactly _ what Dean wanted. But, then again, Cas knew Dean better than anyone—maybe even Sammy.

So, Dean complied like a man on fire searching for water. They were both so eager to finally feel skin on skin. Once both their leaking dicks were freed, Cas' eyes flicked up, asking silently if it was okay to carry on. Dean gave his answer with a lick of Cas' gorgeously swollen lips and Cas didn't hesitate a second longer. He spat into his palm for more lube than their precome was providing, lined up their cocks and took them both in hand. Dean felt Cas' smooth, hardness against him like it was giving him life. He looked up at Cas with what was almost disbelief.

This was him and Cas. _ Together_.

Dean couldn't hold it in. As Cas' began to stroke them gorgeously with one, firm hand—the other holding Dean's face, lovingly—a buildup of all the years hit him, with full-on, overwhelming force; it was like an explosion mushrooming inside of him... and a rogue tear escaped over the swell of his cheek. Cas caught it with his lips and Dean smiled a shaky smile which Cas took and multiplied by a few thousand.

Cas kept a steady pace, stroking them languidly, and even though it was pretty uncomfortable with two grown men in the seat of his car, Dean realised it was the hottest thing he'd ever experienced. He also realised he was embarrassingly not going to last long. Like, _ at all _. Especially not now Cas had started talking...

"I'd very much like for you to… come soon, Dean." Cas said like he was remembering the right term.

"No issue there, Cas," Dean replied, almost completely breathless.

"Good." Cas' short yet perfect answer was enough to speed things up for Dean, let alone the way Cas' thumb pad was now circling Dean's cockhead on every upward stroke. Dean's dick was now leaking precome like it was Niagra fucking Falls and he could feel Cas' rhythm starting to falter slightly.

"Oh, God..." Dean groaned.

Cas leaned forward and growled softly into Dean's incredibly sensitive ear canal.

"I'd prefer _ Oh, Cas _..." he deadpanned.

And that was it.

"Oh, Cas—fuck, I'm gonna..."

"Wait," Cas instructed, and repositioned himself so those bluer-than-blue eyes were again locked on to Dean's fervent and desperate gaze.

"Now." Cas croaked, obviously right on the edge himself.

And Dean needed nothing more. He let go of the breath he was holding—and the rest of those damn tears—and came so hard and yet so soft, all at once... and it felt like he'd imagined it must feel for a bird—_ or an angel _—to fly. And the last thing Dean thought of before Cas came with a groan, before he collapsed into firm chest, arms now wrapped around his neck, Cas pressing so many kisses into his damp hair...

_ Hope he felt like he had wings again. _

* * *

"Don't you dare tell Sammy" Dean said sternly after they'd cleaned up the mess with a napkin from his pocket, zipped up their pants and made their way to the front seat of the Impala.

Cas looked so horrifyingly dejected, Dean instantly realized his mistake.

"No, doofus, I mean about me…" Dean sighed, hand on his keys in the ignition, "you really gonna make me say it?" he asked, throwing Cas an appalled glare.

Cas' had circled back around to confusion.

"Shit. _ Imeantaboutmecryingduringsexokay? _ Jeez, Cas!" Dean rumbled through it, fast as greased lightning, running a hand through his mussed up hair. Then he leaned forward to check in the rearview mirror he didn't have a _ "There's Something About Mary" _ moment going on.

"Dean, it was tears of joy in a highly emotional, overwhelming moment…" Cas said. Then he saw Dean's face and added, "But yes, I promise. I won't tell Sam." And he said it with absolute sincerity. "But what _ are _ we going to tell him?" he asked, a little nervously as Dean reversed his Baby out of the lot.

Dean smiled a wry smile. "I'm gonna tell him a hunter, an angel, a werewolf and a FED walked into a bar..."

Cas laughed an adorably gummy laugh and Dean laughed too and thought about reaching for his hand.

So this time, he did.

Cas looked happier than Dean had ever seen him. And honestly? That was all Dean wanted. Well, that and the car sex they'd just had. _ Obviously_.

"And... then what?" Cas wondered.

"Then, I'm gonna tell Sammy he needs to get another motel room," Dean raised a sexy brow, "and after that? I'll text that Stiles dude."

"For more information," Cas stated.

"Yeah, that. But also to tell the crazy kid he was right about… us," Dean squeezed Cas' hand, "and to thank him. I owe the guy at least an extra-large portion of curly fries or somethin'."

Cas smiled one of his knowing smiles. "Something tells me that's all the young man would actually want, Dean."

* * *

The hunt the following day was crazy and messy and dangerous and the most fun Dean'd had in forever—until they hit _ Danny's _ bar again later that night with Sammy, Stiles and Derek, the Alpha, Scott and his pack in tow, which actually sort of included Danny, the owner of the bar.

When _ Team Free Will _ finally stumbled back to the _ Finstock Family Motel _ at gone three AM, Dean went to the bathroom and text Stiles again.

**HEY MAN. RANDOM 1, BUT THINKIN BOUT THAT COWBOYS AND INDIANS COMMENT... DO U GUYS ACTUALLY DRESS UP?**

Dean hit send **>>**

The reply came just moments after.

**<< hey there urself, mr shouty. presuming u dont mean halloween here... sumtimes, sure. why ju ask?**

Dean typed out his message in record time.

**WONDERIN IF U KNOW A PLACE ROUND HERE WHERE I CUD GET MSELF A ZORRO MASK. 4 CAS. HAV TO BE 2MOROW NOW, OBVS >>**

Dean grinned a grateful, shit-eating grin at the fast and very... _ understanding _ reply.

**<< meet me bk at dannys in like 10 dude-u can totally brrow the 1 der-bear made me buy ;)**

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Hope any Destiel fans reading this enjoyed a bit of Sterek A.K.A. idiots in love... and any Sterek fans liked my idiots in love A.K.A. Destiel xD
> 
> Come find me on Tumblr: @all-or-nothing-baby
> 
> Lucy : )


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